Autographs and Apologies
by Of Monsters and Me
Summary: In the time between Liljedahl and their meeting with Yondu, Peter decides to introduce his friends to an old Earth tradition. Signing casts. Another aside from my story Astronautical, set between chapters 6 and 7. This one doesn't really stand alone.


**Chapter 8 is basically 4,000 words of action so far and I'm dying, so I took a break to write this little side story. It's set between 6 and 7, and just some ramblings that have no critical bearing on the main story. It's just meant to show the start of them all interacting together as friends. I wanted to get to write some quiet moments between them before I take it all away in the next couple of chapters.**

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 **Autographs and Apologies**

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Peter's face was screwed up in careful concentration, his tongue caught between his teeth, and the pen in his right hand trembled slightly as it hovered above the cast on his left arm. His faithful walkman sat off to his right, volume turned up and music spilling from the headphones that sat at his elbow as he worked.

"What are you doing?" The deep rumble of Drax's voice caused Peter to jump, a strangled yelp escaping his lips when he bit down on his tongue.

"Ah, man." He hissed out, touching his tongue to check for blood but finding none. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I was hardly sneaking." Drax informed him calmly as he placed a bowl of something on the table and took a seat at the head of the table. "You should be more aware of your surrounding. You would not survive long on my planet." He shook his head and muttered into his food.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." They had had a similar conversation on the reborn Milano, and Peter knew better now than to try to point out that this was his ship and so he should feel entitled to a bit of relaxing.

The the soft clink of Drax's spoon accompanied the music still playing from his headphones as Peter returned his attention to his task. His bruised tongue made its way back between his teeth as he carefully traced the lines of the Milano across his wrist.

"Is this some sort of Earth ritual?" Drax asked when he had finished his food and placed the empty dishes aside.

"Kind of, I guess." Peter answered, not looking up as he worked to add in the finer details of the many smaller wing panels.

"What does the ship represent?" He had clasped his hands together and was leaning over Peter's arms with great interest.

"Represent? Nothing, I just like it."

Drax scrunched his eyebrows together and tilted his head to look at Peter sideways.

"It is a wound you received in battle, yes? Should it not be decorated with meaning and honor?"

"No," Peter smiled. "On Earth when our friends get injured we decorate their casts with things like stars and hearts and 'get well soon' and stuff that makes them smile or think of us while they heel. When a kid in my third grade class broke his leg I drew a dinosaur riding a skateboard over flames on his cast."

Drax was quiet for a while after that, content to watch as Peter finished the ship and added a couple of laser beams and explosions for good effect. It was a pretty good drawing if he said so himself, but he still had a lot of blank space left to cover and nothing was immediately springing to mind to fill it with.

"Do you want to add something?" He asked the man still hovering with completely unconcealed fascination.

Drax blinked owlishly at the offered pen, accepting it with a solemn reverence as Peter slid his arm across the table so Drax could more easily reach it. The Destroyer set about his task with an air of grave importance, tracing a swirling pattern with absolute dedication down the outside of his wrist and spilling onto his bandaged fingers. Watching the swirls come to life was hypnotizing and Peter wasn't sure how they didn't make the other man dizzy as he traced them on.

Two and a half tracks had slipped away by the time Drax leaned back to admire his work. After a moment's consideration he seemed satisfied, nodding his head to himself as a smile split his face.

Holding the cast up to get a better view of it himself, Peter had to admit, it was something to be proud of. Even with the dimestore marker, a pen that was better suited to labeling repair parts than making works of art, the lines looked clean and precise and Peter couldn't help but feel a little envious at the obvious skill.

"Whoah! This is nice!" As he twisted the design back and forth it struck him that they looked similar to the designs tattoo'd across Drax's own body. "Do they mean something?"

"Yes." Drax's chest puffed out proudly at Peter's praise. "They represent a personal victory over multiple opponents. An unfair battle turned in one's favor."

A warm feeling of gratitude bloomed in Peter's chest as he studied the swirls with new interest, as though he could somehow decipher the story himself.

As he basked in the comfort of the easy interaction he heard the telltale clinks of Nebula making her way down the ladder to join them in the common room. In the time since leaving Liljedahl she had more or less made the cockpit her home. She was always up there studying maps or charts, or staring quietly out the windshield. He was pretty sure she was sleeping in the pilot's chair, too, although he had never managed to actually catch her unconscious.

At first he had worried and tried to find a way to broach the subject of her using the other spare mattress if they moved it into the cockpit for her, but then he had recalled her enhancements. He supposed if he was cybernetically enhanced to break every bone in his body then hop back up and keep fighting like nothing happened, a crick in his back from sleeping in a chair wouldn't scare him much either.

"Hey, Nebula." He greeted her witha cheerful wave of his newly decorated arm.

"Hello." She replied curt, but not unfriendly. An empty mug was balanced in one hand as she made her way past Drax towards the fold-out shelving that served as a sort of kitchen counter in his small ship. He really missed the kitchenette that the NOVA corps had designed for the larger crew. He had a whole new appreciation for it now as he was living on a one-man ship with two others

"What are you doing?" She echoed Drax's earlier question as she crossed her arms and waited for whatever was in her cup to brew.

"We are decorating Peter Quill's cast."

"Would you like to join?" Peter asked, holding the pen up to her now.

"No thank you." She replied, not even bothering to unfold her arms.

"Aw, come on. You don't have to draw something if you don't want, but you should at least sign your handiwork."

Nebula stiffened suddenly at his words.

"I am not responsible for your injury!" She shot out, looking ready to defend herself.

"That's not what I meant." Peter quickly amended, not sure what to make of the sudden outburst. "I meant the cast, you bandaged it for me- will you sign it at least? Just put your name with a smiley face or whatever. It's like, an Earth tradition."

Nebula stared at him through narrowed eyes for a beat before slowly unwinding her arms and taking the pen that Peter was still holding up towards her. Cautiously, as though still expecting some sort of trick she stepped forward and held her own hand out to take his cast and roll it over to find a blank spot where she spared him one last glance before she scribbled something that Peter couldn't quite make out from his angle.

When she was finished she released his arm and recapped the pen, turning to busy herself with her drink which wasn't anywhere near done yet.

Curious, Peter held his arm up so he could see what she had done. Drax leaned in to peer over his shoulder as well. There, under one of the Milano's laser beams in the neatest hand-drawn print Peter had ever seen was the word 'Nebula' written out in common, with a tiny and every bit just as neat smiley face added next to it. The little black lines beamed up at him with a happiness that was just so unexpected from the somber assassin that Peter couldn't help the bark of surprised laughter that escaped.

"I love it!" He laughed out before Nebula could take it the wrong way.

And he found he meant it.

 **End.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-OMaM**


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